Empowered by no other choice

                Again it’s been a long time since I’ve sat down to write and again it’s the same reason…lots to write but no time to write it short. As I look over my posts, I see that I haven’t posted about a lot that’s happened. I’ll post separately some of the interesting stuff for which there are photos: Christmas in Roblegal, a med mission in early January, the change of APCD in February, The crazy and way-dangerous wood working shop (you’ll “love” the photos of the table saw) where I and my students made screens for the school’s kitchen and cafeteria (instead of doing the work we really should have done…teaching them basic math) and the mountain bike trip I and 3 other volunteers took a week ago…during Semana Santa.

                 The photos of that trip are stunning. I learned a lot about what my body can do. Provided I stay hydrated…it can do much more than I thought it could these days. And it’s amazing how one’s idea of how one might perform on, say, a trip like that—steep up-hills (had to walk some…almost all our biking time spent in 1-1) in heat, sunburned (darn it! Used plenty of sunscreen but it seemed to have been washed away by the copious sweating…I wasn’t the only one) that took 4 hours each, for example—shift according to what one hears one “should” to be able to do as a 63 year-old, for example (ans: don’t believe ‘em, go and find out for yourself, you’ll likely be pleasantly surprised…but don’t underestimate the work required, either…it’s hard…and now I know I can do even more…the other side of the trip I find I am still building lung capacity and muscle-mass/physical strength, and I am eating like a bear in Spring just like I did when I was 40  or 30 after a long bike trip) …And if I die suddenly of, say, a heart attack in the effort, WTF, that would solve so many problems—like what the hell I’m going to do for work when I finish my service—so, who cares, it’s all got to end someday. Go enjoy. Do what you want to do. My cat taught me that through his example as he aged (and I’ll include a photo of him on this post.) Push the envelope. Apparently, that’s what it’s there for. This body outperformed two of my companions…both in their 20s and fit. I learned, as we came upon the physical challenges: that I must not underestimate what I can do, that I could always do more. I had to be careful and watch my heart rate and hydration. That done, this body rrrocked. What a pleasure it was to be riding like that and feeling that strong.

                I’ve had a run-in with the directora of the school. I was publicly verbally abused by her. The following day, having thought hard about it, I wrote my new APCD (my new boss) and asked to be removed from the school. He could have—and might have, I don’t know—told the directora of my request because it’s been quiet here since. I was told me that the directora is bi-polar. How about that, we have something in common. But no matter; her personal problem is not my problem. I am only responsible for what I do about the situation put before me. I am not leading another person to address their personal problems, not the directora, anyway. That’s not my job. I have enough to do.
                If the poop is in the fan—which I expect…and encourage; let it fly—everything is happening in slo-mo. My new boss has promised to come to the school to address the issue…            

                               but hasn’t.

                And it’s now been five weeks…which here is like a year. I’ve almost forgotten the affair, but I haven’t; I refuse to. Yes, I have forgiven. I did that for myself. What’s left is principal. I can’t let her get away with what she did simply because it is a management technique and to make like it never happened (to give in to my ass-kisser self and, to what would be my great relief, preen to the praises she’s offered since the event by e-mail) simply rewards her for her behavior (take ‘em down, build ‘em back up,) proves to her that it works, and invites another round the next time she want’s something done for her aggrandizement. I am not contributing to any more of her self-serving causes. Nobody wins that way, certainly not the school or the students, or the staff. Perhaps the best thing I could do here, for the school, the ministry and the country, is somehow to manage to get her (the devil we know) fired…provided she will be replaced with someone (the devil we don’t know) who really has the best interests of the school and the students at heart…and an empowering rather than corrosive management technique. I am so tired of bullies in my life. And I suppose they will always be there…because bullying works. All you have to be is insensitive. Squash sensitivity and you can elbow your way to the top.

This probably needs no introduction. My stand about what the directora did is a matter of integrity. We'll see where my boss falls on this. The outcome will be interesting, as has everything else that's happened here.

                The farther I get from that  Black Thursday (jueves negro…quite a nice sound in Spanish, actually, rolls right off the tongue with a soft cardboard box-like clatter as I’d always imagined Spanish should) the more comfortable I am with my stand about it. Nobody should be treated that way. Other volunteers I’ve talked to about it—one of whom has been a PCV before and has the ropes down pat—tell me I was beyond-the-call-of-duty polite during the event. I stayed quiet because of the culture. I had to stop myself from coming back at her right then and did not because of her position. In the end, my silent bearing of the abuse has not done me poorly. Now it’s my turn and I, through no particular credit of my own, am taking my time. And the directora, handily, has been out of the country. I’ve seen her only once since the dark event (el acontecimiento oscuro) and that, at a distance, at the 40^th birthday party of the school. I got there a little late and stood outside the confines of the multi-uso space as the dignitaries’ mutual praise and congratulations droned on. But the new perspective it’s allowed me feels just fine. I am reevaluating my relationship with the school and my project and resetting the laws that determine my approach to my service. It feels good to do that, and, empowering, something I am not sure is particularly what Peace Corps has in mind for a PCV. Us? Personally empowered? That was not offered me as a possible outcome of my service. We are here to contribute and fade out of the picture while a secondary goal is to meet our (minimum) needs as required to accomplish the first part.

                I don’t know what we are supposed to be feeling. I’ve been simply confused for this last year and had almost gotten used to the constant knot in my stomach that I think everyone at the school carries around with them. In my case, that knot has become uncomfortable enough that I dread going to the school…not a good trend, I think. Inducing that sense of discomfort and off-balance must take quite a talent. I don’t think it can be learned…taught in personnel management class. The phrase I look forward to saying to the directora at the proper time and place is, “Tu y yo, estamos termino,” “You and I are through.” Beyond that, I feel, now, that she doesn’t deserve volunteers and that requires my rethinking my motivation for my project. I’ll have to approach it from a different perspective and rebuild it in my mind. I am working on that and this has not been a bad thing to do. My appreciation for my service has gained breadth through this process, and the knot in my gut has loosened somewhat.

                That might not mean I will no longer work with the students but it will be on a different basis. I have discovered that it would appear that most of the students don’t want to learn anything. This is odd to me. I found engineering school very hard—I nearly flunked out before finding my way and working up to the dean’s list—but I always wanted to learn what was offered. I always respected and valued the opportunity to go to college. Now, I want only the students who want—actually want—to learn what I have to teach them. If they don’t, they shouldn’t be bothering with the class. It’s my bet that the number of students I will have to teach will shrink…and, then, we’ll get down to it and make progress. If the school doesn’t like that approach, I now have many other things I want to do to contribute in this country and I’ll move out of the school and over to other endeavors. And, frankly, I’d enjoy doing that. And, guess what, on my bike ride I learned that my enjoyment of my work is actually something that other volunteers, volunteers not in the AT sector, have been told during training that they should factor in to their service, that they should expect this as a part of their service and if they don’t, they should work with their APCDs to change their projects. We were given no such latitude. That latitude is a breath of fresh air to me, and a revelation.

                So what I’ve learned is this: I’m a volunteer; I’m here to help. On the other side is what appears as a litmus test of volunteerism: do they really want help with being personally empowered to do anything for themselves? Do they really need help with anything? The school—that is, the directora—wants a bunch of servants to do stuff for her. The school itself needs all the help it can get, no question. It’s one crazy place as some of the staff as said. We can’t plan anything. I can’t plan a class. Maybe the class will meet and maybe it won’t. If it meets this week and we get going on something…like trig, for example, something that will take some extended focus, will it meet next week? For the last 4 weeks, the class has been taken from me to make screens for the kitchen and cafeteria. The directora wanted screens (they were my idea, something not in our training but that I recognized and added as an appropriate technology in our case, but that’s another story,) apparently by the 40^th birthday party, cheap. During those weeks, I helped with the project…and a good thing b/c they would never have gotten done if I hadn’t. I also took the opportunity to make the experience valuable by pointing out failures in safety in the shop, and those were glaring. The shop steward has two missing fingers on one hand from one of the shop tools. What is he telling shop users…that if you work in a shop you should expect to lose fingers…or toes, eyes, your hearing? I used the tools and they were so dull they chattered as wood was moved through or over them and nearly flew from beneath my hand off the jointer. I wouldn’t let the students use the jointer. Sharpen the blades? No money for that, no sir. (and there’s a sharpening service right in the town.) So the students worked on the screens…without hearing or eye protection (I bought a pair of hearing protection myself so they’d know the value of them)…and while somebody else was welding at their feet with an arc welder. Beyond crazy.

                And I think I have spotted a “coal-miner mentality” here, where people do things in a dangerous and unhealthful way just because it’s macho. Perhaps a subject for a future blog. Hey: if it isn’t dangerous, it’s not DR. (Smilie face here.)

                I found safety rules in Makita’s table saw manual in both English and Spanish. Now the students have that information. That’s a good thing. Perhaps the best thing—maybe the only thing—I’ve done for them this cuadrimestre. The math they need? out the window. The cuadrimestre gone. New students coming for the next one. Onward!

The sierra de banco, table saw. Note that the shut off switch is across the room and over the pile of portland cement bags and that the fence can be put parallel to the blade only by luck. What you can't see is that the fence is not flat...it's bent. Add to that that the shop steward has students help him rip long work pieces by pulling it through the saw from the outfeed side and you know why I expect to hear of lost fingers by a student's hand pulled into the blade any day.

                All this has lead me to reflect on satisfaction, as in job satisfaction. We’re taught or lead to a certain sequence of work and response/reward in the US that doesn’t seem to happen here. I have to stick it out so what I am left with is a hole where satisfaction used to go after a job. It’s gotten so that I don’t believe anything I’ve actually planned for in any given day will actually happen. This is a part of the “expectations” conundrum I wrote about a while ago. Looking around my apartment at the things I’ve prepared for the class and gone out and bought for the class like the dial caliper so they can measure things, and I see that I haven’t guessed right yet about what I can do in or for the class. I have a pile of nice ideas and grand gestures in the apartment and on this computer that appear to have amounted to nothing. About the only thing that’s worked out is my riding my unicycle through my community. People see it, see an old guy—most 60 year olds in the DR are all but dead and I am uncomfortable proof that that degradation of health is not necessary (it’s no secret: diet and exercise, just ask your doctor)—balancing on that thing and riding it up and down the steep hills here and have to think a number of things…such as the inevitable, 1.) why do that? But also, 2.) the gray-hair is doing that so maybe I could do that. Somewhere in there is an impact and that’s a start. Good ‘ol Gandhi, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” I still believe in that. That one hangs on. I never did think I was going to change the world, and, frankly, I ride the uni because I love riding it and love the challenges and the muscle and capacity building riding the hills does for my legs and lungs. I’m in it for me and that feels fair and fun. I need to get something out of this, too. There is a lucha (fight) aspect to all this and I am still hanging in there.

                What to do with the missing satisfaction? It seems I’m doing okay without it. I try at my work and then I do something I like on my own, like riding the uni…or, like riding my mountain bike through some wild wilderness here. We’d been casually planning it for a few months and pulled it off during Semana Santa (Holy Week) which was 6 to 11 days ago.

                So satisfaction for effort put in is missing and we can’t plan on anything happening as we’d thought it might, so we find what we need elsewhere, redefine fun, find and soak up our islands of peace. You’ve read this before, even way back earlier in my service. None of that’s changed. What has changed is that I have gotten better at accommodating the facts of working here. Perhaps I am developing a thicker shell. I am learning how to take what I need. I’ll now do a little cheating and stealing to get it. For me, it boils down to determination to stay in the DR and see it all through as I said I would on the pledge I signed. And I want to learn Spanish—which still eludes me. I am seeking help with that and we’ll see how that goes and, all the English at the school notwithstanding, I am learning slowly, a word at a time.